Penny Dreadwolf
by littleblue-eyedbird
Summary: A Solavellan Steampunk AU, set before Arlathan Fell, but all the other races of Thedas existed. Mythal and the Dread Wolf are scheming as tensions rise within the corporation and society at large. Just as Solas is about to make a breakthrough on his latest invention, he is called away by Mythal. In his absence, someone steals everything, and threatens to bring calamity to Thedas
1. A Thief in the Night

The grating sound of steam being forced through a maze of pipes and gears hissed in Solas' face as the metal doors before him slowly pulled apart, granting him entry to his private workshop at the Evanuris Co. headquarters. He was earlier than he anticipated.

"Wisdom, I have returned." He announced, crossing the expanse the room in the direction of his drafting bench.

Tugging on the collar of his finely pressed white button down shirt, he loosened he fastenings around his neck, allowing him to breathe more easily. He finally felt himself starting to relax, the tension he had been carrying in shoulders bleeding out with every step he took. Being called away from his work on such short notice tried his patience, but Mythal was not one to be ignored when she demanded an audience. The impromptu argument between himself and the other heads of the Evanuris Corporation had been, to put bluntly, ridiculous. It essentially was a half-assed attempt to resolve latest dispute between Falon'Din and the corporation's parent founders, and it certainly did not warrant everyone else's presence—especially when Mythal and Elgar'nan had much more crucial matters they could have discussing. Such as the sudden and drastic increase in lyrium production output by their biggest competitors, the Durgan'lin.

Solas had made it quite clear how he felt on the proceedings by striding out of the session midway through, after a carefully crafted statement of offense laced with agitation. It had been unnecessary for him to be there mediating a childish screaming match between some of the finest, most brilliant Elvhen minds and Innovators—who should have by now figured out how to solve petty disagreements. He already had a limited amount of tolerance for the group and their abusive reliance on Mechs to do all their actual work, treating them more akin to slaves than service providers.

When he had unintentionally created the Mechs, it was not his intention for the machines to become enslaved. He had stumbled across a major discovery by chance—that some of the automatons had evolved on their own to become sentient, developing artificial intelligence. Upon this enlightenment he built the first physical construct, an operating system so to speak, for the intelligence to inhabit, thus creating an entirely new population to Thedas. One that soon fell victim to indentured servitude, and worse.

The sheer immaturity of his founders astounded him, and he found he had no patience for it. Especially tonight. He was on the brink of a breakthrough on his latest undertaking, a classified project privy only to him and the All-mother of the company. Being drug out of his creative state had soured his mood considerably.

"Wisdom?" He called again, and stalled by his tool wall, straightening a hammer that had been left slightly askew.

Strange that she would not answer. She was almost always running fully operational, never taking down time unless she was self-upgrading her software. Perhaps it was a routine systems check, she was prone to do that when she was alone. Always making sure she was running at optimal speed. He smiled to himself at his friend's tenacity to constantly strive better herself, expand her consciousness beyond its current limit, to be the most efficient and knowledgeable Mech she could be. What more could one expect from the world's first ever evolved AI?

Turning away from his wall of tools, he cast his gaze over his drafting table where he and Wisdom had been brainstorming naught twenty minutes prior, and stopped dead in his tracks. Time seemed to slow as he registered the sight. His heart ceased to beat and dropped like bolt, heavy and cold into his stomach. His lungs fought against him as he struggled to take in air, a as if they were constricting themselves in his chest.

Wisdom was slumped over, knocked a few feet away in what appeared to be an inoperable state.

And his workspace was _empty_.

His prototype was missing.

Time suddenly resumed as he shot forward, his feet propelling them on their own accord towards his bench and the Mech pitifully keeled over against a piece of scrap beside it. His prototype, the gauntlet he had spent copious amounts of his time over the past year creating, tweaking, nearly perfecting yet was gone-leaving its holder empty and desk void of its blueprints. It still had much work to be done before being considered complete, and yet the efforts of months of tedious research and secretive planning vanished within in minutes. He haphazardly searched his immediate surroundings, though he knew that the frantic search would be for nothing.

Someone had broken in and stolen _everything._

 _How?_

He shuddered violently, trying to not think about the implications of his technology falling into the wrong hands and how devastating the consequences could potentially be. He quickly diverted his attention to the deactivated Mech, rushing to a stop and sliding on his knees against the steel floor before her. Gentle hands lifted her lifeless head, her body a dead weight that fell against his shoulder as he tried to move her into a sitting position. After repositioning her, he deftly opened her already tampered with circuit board on her chest, where her heart should have been, with careful precision.

Some of her circuits had been damaged, but not entirely destroyed. Just disabled. And only her vision unit.

 _Odd_.

His thief had not destroyed her mechanics, but had done enough to incapacitate her. Clearly they weren't just some mindless thug. They possessed skill. They knew how to deoperationalize the machines. This was even more alarming information to process.

He reached over to his desk, plucking a few spare wire casings and respective tools and began mending the damaged pieces. Within seconds Wisdom restarted. The lights which posed as her eyes slowly blinked back on, various sectors of her system resuming their functionality one by one. Daintily, he closed her chest cavity, emitting a small hiss signifying it had locked itself again. Her security features were back online.

"Solas.." Her automated voice called to him, a slightly feminine cadence to it. One she had been so painstakingly tuning to suit her personality, her self-actualized identity.

" _Lethallan_ ," He whispered, unable to contain the pain from his voice, "What happened? Who did this to you?"

She gave a subtle shake of her head as if to chase away an unwanted thought, a notion so mortal, that had her features not been forged from metal, one could have mistaken her as flesh and blood.

"Routine maintenance check, it was to be a quick scan, but I was taken by surprise. I restored my systems to full capacity just in time to see her. And for her to see me."

"See her?" He pressed.

She turned her head and blinked once, eyes switching from a green glow to a pale blue, projecting a security recording on the floor to their left.

Solas watched as a lithe figure descended from the ceiling, using a grappling hook of some kind. Somehow. She had managed to bypass his security system and dismantled his alarms. It would have been no small feat to disarm, for he had designed the alarms personally. The thief landed with barely a sound against the metal ground, straightening to her full height and disconnecting the hook she used before crossing to his workbench.

Female, by the attire standards and figure. She wore a pale purple high collared dress with corset inlaid bodice, the skirts shorter in the front than in the back, shifting aside to reveal rather heavy industrial heeled boots. Not the most easily manueravble outfit for breaking and entering, he noted. It must have been a cover. A unique pair of goggles were drawn down over her eyes, obscuring a portion of her face. Her thick, golden hair was pulled away from her face in a thick braid that fell down the length of her back swaying while she walked, a determined swagger, over to his bench. She reached for it but then hesitated getting sidetracked by his blueprints he had so regrettably left out in the open on the table's surface. Her fingers curled back from the prototype as picked up the drafts with her other hand, and he saw her gasp, chest heaving and her tiny flinch back from the gauntlet.

So she understood, at least part of, its design. No simple thief indeed.

The high pitched scream of steam racing through the far walls startled her out of her shock. Her head spun towards the large door that served as the entrance to his workshop, the very door he would emerge from in just a few more minutes. Solas cringed as he watched her fold his meticulously drawn blueprints into a smaller, more manageable size and tuck them into her corset. She looked at the gauntlet and he watched as she made a rash decision.

 _Don't do it_ , he thought to himself, _Don't you dare_.

She dared.

She slipped her left hand into the prototype and it reacted violently. It emitted a cascade of sparks before the force of it knocked her back, sending her sprawling onto the floor in a layered heap of lace petticoats, mere inches away from Wisdom. Solas heard an unmistakable noise of surprise sound from Wisdom in her recording and the thief snapped her head up, a mouth that once had been contorted in pain fading into one of shock, and quickly twisting into one of visible regret.

This close, he could see her face had an elongated elegance to it, high cheekbones and sharp chin enhanced by the bulk of the goggles adorning the bridge of her thin nose. A scar graced her left brow and continued beneath the spectacles onto her cheek. She scrambled to her feet, barely paying attention to her ruffled state of dress and stopped in front of the temporarily vulnerable Wisdom

"Ir abelas Lethallan, I'm so sorry I have to do this." She lilted, her tone almost mourning.

Wisdom's video shut off.

"That was all I was able to capture."

Solas closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against his friend. "It is enough."

He might be able to hack into the other security footage from outside the Headquarters and gather enough evidence to track the thief down. He had to. There would be no other way. He had to catch her, before she did something incredibly idiotic. Or worse, catastrophic.

Wisdom seemed to read his thoughts.

"You might still be able to catch her, she could not have gotten far," Wisdom offered, and he leaned away once more to look at her, "She would have to disable all your other wards on her way out. She only bypassed this room's security, not the entire warehouse."

Hope blossomed in his chest. He stood, helping Wisdom up somewhat haphazardly, his mind racing far faster than his limbs could keep up.

"Which, need I remind you, which no mortal has been able to successfully deactivate." There was a hint of amusement in Wisdom's voice this time. She was the only one to have ever dismantled his other systems. He routinely had her try to break them for this reason alone. This would be the true test then.

She couldn't have gotten far.

Having only fled only seconds before he entered the room, and there was no way in the three minutes that had passed since that she would have made it out of his labyrinth, unharmed at least. The prototype was unstable, and would slow her down considerably.

He was moving again, towards the far wall where his tools were so carefully organized. He pressed a button below the wrench and activated a secret panel beside it. It slid apart to reveal a small hidden chamber. He reached inside and snatched the item he had stashed there. He only used his mask on certain occasions. He stared down at them, admiring the six crimson lenses reflected like rubies up at him in the brightly lit room before sliding it over his head and adjusting the headpiece into place. A simple press activated them, and the lenses glowed bright red. The largest of the six enhanced his sight, two more allowed for tracking and location, and the last two could switch between various settings, such as night vision, infrared, and heat-seeking. And he had plans on expanding its features, but alas now was not the time.

The Mask of Fen'Harel had its benefits.

Especially for when he was going hunting.


	2. The Hunter and the Hunted

She slammed into the stairwell. Brutally. It was a narrow escape, launching herself through the rapidly closing gateway that led from the last of Fen'Harel's workshop antechambers, her back taking most of the impact and staunching only a fraction of pain from the real source of her discomfort. Her left palm felt as if she were being electrocuted. As if she had accidently torn open a live wire and inserted in directly into her skin, a raw current running straight through her bones into her finger tips. She gritted her teeth as she rubbed her left wrist with her other hand, trying to massage away some of the sharp pangs of shock to no avail. The blasted contraption was unstable, and she was shaking.

Her intel had been wrong. She had been informed it was just a preliminary model; a simple design, a first draft version of what the real device would be. But upon closer inspection in the heart of his workshop, she quickly realized it was no draft. It was the prototype, a last revision of the final design, yet still unfinished. But she didn't know that at the time, and for all intents and purposes looked complete. Hence why she thought to put it on to transport it. Serves her right for thrusting herself into that _bright_ idea, but she just couldn't resist. She should have just carried the damn thing as intended, like she planned, but once she saw the blueprints and interpreted their design, understood the level of raw power it held—her curiosity got the better of her. She needed to know just how dangerous this device was going to be before she handed it over and well, in slipped her hand.

Cursing herself for being so reckless, she pushed off the steel wall again and raced for the stairs flinching every few steps. She had made it out of the first sector of the Wolf's headquarters without much resistance. With a sharp mind, some problem solving, and a little luck, she had hacked her way past his defense systems and managed to temporarily disarm the traps he set to disable intruders. She would have loved to actually get to study their composition more closely, but her mission wasn't over yet. She had to make it out before the Wolf came looking for her, as she knew he would. That poor Mech, she shouldn't have…

She shook away the guilt. It was a rash decision, shelving it away to process later. She reached for the slender radio at her hip, pushing aside some of the ruffles from her petticoat and brought it to her lips as she took the steps two at a time, heeled boots clicking softly against the metal flooring, each footfall echoing a subtle metal ring in the stairwell.

"Abelas, do you read, over?" She called, cursing when she only received static in response.

That hadn't taken long. The building's defense system must have been recovered from her tampering. Or worse, the Wolf did a system restore. She wouldn't put it past Fen'Harel to have implemented a jamming signal. She had been warned he was clever. Not this clever.

She was on her own for the moment. Her lips pulled into a tight line, she moved faster on her own most of the time. She only hoped that Abelas did too.

A fresh current coursed through her palm again, sending pain shooting down her fingers and up her arm simultaneously. The pain sent her unceremoniously to her knees. She tucked her left arm across her stomach, forcing it tight against her ribs. It felt like her entire arm was being set aflame. The device was becoming increasingly unstable. What hell purpose was this weapon supposed to be used for? It was a weapon, she gathered that much from the blueprints. She had only caught a glimpse before the Wolf activated his door, but she had processed the gist of it. The device had massive potential, it was a conductor of lyrium. She inferred she would just need brief contact with the substance, or contact any type of technology that operated off the substance in order to manipulate it. What she wouldn't have gave for an extra fifteen minutes to peruse his drafts and sift through his various inventions lying about his workshop. The Wolf truly was brilliant.

Another sharp pang shot through her arm, distracting her thoroughly. What she truly needed was to get to a neutral location and work on dismantling it from her hand before she suffered major nerve damage, and _then_ work on figuring out the Dread Wolf's intentions behind his latest design. Turning back to Fen'Harel to have it removed was _not_ an option. Nor was getting caught.

She crawled to the far wall and rested her cheek against it, letting the cold steel clear her mind as she reevaluated her life choices for the second time that day.

A wailing screech caused her eyes to fly open. A doorway was opening. The Dread Wolf couldn't have been that close behind.

She snapped her head in the direction of the noise, peering up the two flights of stairs she had descended to see six irate red eyes glowing down at her from over the second floor railing.

 _Shit._

She bolted.

"Stop! You have no idea what you are doing!" She heard his voice resonate above her.

She scoffed, she knew exactly what she was doing. There was no way she was going to listen to him. She spun around the last flight of stairs, her bare hand clinging to the cool railing as she swung around curve and ran out into a long glass hallway.

The hallway was actually a bridge, a corridor that connected this building to one of the main Evanuris factories. She would need to crossover and out of his jamming signal's range to radio for back up. She could lose him in the maze of a factory in the meantime.

A deep thud reverberated through the floor behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and her jaw fell. He had jumped from his perch and rolled to land a few feet away from her. The six eyes of his mask burned eerily as he launched himself towards her. From this close she could see how the metalwork was sculpted to fit the shape of his face, melding over his eyes and bridge of his nose. His mouth was visible and drawn into a deep frown. She anticipated the first grab and deflected it by diverting his momentum, slipping under his swipe and sidestepping him all together.

She was pretty agile, but apparently so was he, for he faked her out. She felt his hand clamp down on her forearm hard before she had managed to take a few steps out of the way, yanking her back. She spun herself around sharply to try and pull out of his hold, her long braid whipping him across his mask and mouth as she turned. His grip loosened as he winced from the impact. She used the temporary stall to swiftly knock out one of his legs, disrupting his equilibrium, and then kneed him in the stomach. It was a low blow, but she panicked. He nearly had caught her.

He admitted a pained cry of protest and released his grip, clutching himself where she had abruptly hit him. She took his momentary distraction as a chance to reach into a small pouch beneath her skirts, fingers closing around three small metallic spheres. She took off down the hallway at a sprint, throwing the spheres at his feet behind her as she ran. They erupted the moment they made contact with the floor in a chorus of popping bursts, emitting a thick screen of smoke that filled the space between them.

She didn't know how his particular mask worked, if he would be able to see through her smokescreen or not, but she hoped the annoyance would slow him down and buy her a little more time. She heard him cough a few times before she registered the unmistakable sound of dress shoes clattering against the floor at run.

The door at end of the glass corridor was rapidly approaching. She threw her weight against the latch but it did not give. The entryway was locked. She could make out the Wolf's reflection through the smoke in the windows surrounding her, and it set her into overdrive. She didn't have time to pick the lock.

She _could not get caught_.

Those were her instructions, and her future depended on it. She had to make another rash decision. And fast.

The door was a dead end, so there was only one other way out. She pushed aside her petticoats once more and gripped her grappling hook with steady fingers. In one smooth movement she round-housed kicked the glass window to her left with enough force to shatter it. She stepped swiftly to edge, kicking away the remaining fragments of glass with her leather boot and cocked her hook at the arching metal framework of the building adjacent to the corridor. It wasn't a far jump, but she did not want to risk it, and besides she never passed up the opportunity to show off personal invention of hers. The Dread Wolf wasn't the only gifted inventor in all of Thedas.

There was an open balcony on the building where several party goers were ambling about she could safely swing to and push past to disappear inside. She would leave the Wolf stranded.

She heard him cry out to her before she raised her hook.

"Please, you have no idea what you are getting yourself into—"

She didn't stick around to see what she was getting herself into.

It was a trick, a ploy to get her to pause so the Wolf could take her, and she was not so naïve. She aimed and fired. The hook secured itself on the ledge above the landing with the open doors, and she wasted no time in jumping. She took off into the evening breeze, the fresh air rushing past her bare legs as her skirts billowed behind her was exhilarating. She released the trigger on her hook when she a few inches over the balcony, landing gracefully and taking a few steps forward with her leftover momentum. The hook disengaged itself and came flinging back to her, coiling itself back into place. With practiced ease she holstered it against her thigh as she strode towards to open doors, a few patrons gaping at her melodramatic entrance. She spun around as she delicately placed her gauntlet encased hand against the metal frame and looked back at Fen'Harel gaping from the smashed window.

He was looming in the broken pane, mouth twisted into a furious grimace. His lips down turned so violently with fists clenched, frustration emanating off him in waves even from this far.

She let herself smile. It was a cold, smug thing really that her lips twisted into, beautiful and venomous. She raised two fingers to her lips and blew him an exaggerated kiss before turning on her heel and strolling into the awaiting party she was inevitably crashing.


	3. As Long as the Music Plays, They Dance

To say he was livid would be an understatement. He was seething. Her coy kiss had more than sufficiently irked him, entirely succeeding in its intent. How _dare_ she?

She was no common thief, that much was so obvious now. Through her dismantling his entire security systems, firewalls, she was trained. That made it more evident that she could not possibly be operating alone. She had to have had help. But from whom? She was clearly elven, judging by the sharp shape of her ears that poked out of the loose tendrils from her braid, so she couldn't have possibly been sent from a competing company to steal his invention. But that would mean…

No. It couldn't.

The implications if she were from within the Evanuris Corporation were more worrisome than from a competitor. That meant a betrayal from within his people's company. He had to get to the heart of the matter, his pride and integrity was at stake. He had too much of himself invested in this to be exploited, especially by a member of his own corporation.

There was only one thing to do, and it was to follow her.

He didn't have a grappling hook; he didn't think to grab anything but his mask before he chased after her. He didn't think he would have had to. Just how many devices could she pull from the depths of skirts? What else was she hiding beneath those layers of cloth? He flushed as he realized where his line of thought lead him. This was no time for immodest thoughts.

He stepped up on the window ledge and gauged the distance. It actually was not terribly far, a manageably sized gap. If he could get a good vault…

He threw himself out, falling rapidly towards the balcony. He landed on the railing with a loud groan, scattering a few of the party-goers from the edge with loud gasps and exclamations of shock. He hoisted himself up and over the railing, dusting off his pants and hands after drawing to his full height. He glanced around him and realized he was going to fit right in. The patrons were all donned in intricate goggles and masks, clearly for fashion and not function; gears and piping were arranged around barrages of multi-colored lenses that were all fixated on him. He glanced down. He wasn't sporting evening wear like they were, clad in flowing gowns made of the rarest cloth, hoop skirts, suit pieces and other superfluous accessories. His outfit was modest, he would be forgotten about in a second, blending right into the background.

 _Orlesians_.

A thought dawned on him as he sauntered through the parting crowd and into an equally, if not more, populated foyer. If he would fit right in, then so would she.

 _Drat._

Finding her amongst the sea of masked figures was going to be difficult. Luckily for him, he was up for the challenge. He pushed his way passed finely dressed humans and elves, his eyes scanning for the tall, lean woman in the pale purple dress and gold goggles. She could not have gotten far. There was only one way out of this foyer, and it was down the ornate staircase at the end of room. He was about to descend the first step when he felt a hand clap his shoulder in a friendly gesture.

"Well I'll be damned, I thought you had chained yourself up in that workshop you call home. Fen what are you doing here?"

He cringed. He knew the owner of that voice, and now was not the time.

"Felassan." He greeted the masked elf over his shoulder, "I could ask the same of you."

The elf had been his protégé for a time until Solas grew tired of his quirks and sent him off into the world. Felassan became an independent contract inventor— under the employ of none other than Mythal. Which meant Solas still continued to see him. A lot.

Unfortunately.

A shit eating grin spread beneath Felassan's mask.

"It is the strangest thing, it's called having friends and being social. You should invent a few and try it sometime."

"I am not in the mood." Solas replied shortly.

"Oh, don't take it so hard lethallin, we all make friends in our own special way. You from scrap metal and lyrium and the rest of us by getting drunk at parties."

And that tested the last of his patience. Solas made another disgusted noise and turned sharply out of Felassan's grasp.

"Go away."

"I think not. You seem upset. I would be a bad friend if I didn't— "

"You have helped enough."

"I haven't done a thi— "

"I do not have time for games, Felassan!" He snapped, stalking down the first few steps and away from what was probably his only friend. Besides Mythal, of course.

"Well, I guess you don't want to hear about my run in with the most fascinating damsel in distress a moment ago. She was wearing something quite peculiar. She might be… your type."

He froze.

 _Felassan knew_.

"How could you—where is she." Solas ordered, suspicion coiling in his gut. Felassan shouldn't have known about the prototype. And yet, somehow he did. It should have troubled Solas more, but he had bigger issues to be concerned about. Such as the woman missing in action. His _friend_ could wait.

Felassan pursed his lips and furrowed his brows as if lost in thought, tapping a gloved hand against his chin.

Solas wanted to strangle him. For a plethora of reasons.

"I don't quite know, she was in such a hurry when she disappeared."

"I have no time for this." Solas took off down the stairs into the reception hall.

"You can't just go around harassing ladies and expect them to give you their hand, Solas." Felassan called out to him, "You have to ask them to dance first!"

"What?" Solas muttered, tossing a confused glance up the stairs over his shoulder to where Felassan should have been standing. He regretted speaking in riddles to taunt Felassan when he had trained him. It seemed inventing wasn't the only skill his protégé had acquired under his tutelage.

Solas noted Felassan also had disappeared from the top of the staircase. "How convenient."

It was even more crowded in the hall at the bottom of the stairs. Several bodies pressed up against him in a current he had to fight against or else be dragged through the room. Servants wandered by with platters of food and drink, hors'deourves and champagne by looks of the golden substance glistening in the slender glasses. There was no way he would catch her just scanning the crowd like this.

He raised a hand to his mask, turning one of the knobs on the edge to turn on the infrared sight. He rescanned the room, the cascade of lights distracting him for a moment. The patrons' gaudy gowns and suits were replaced with vibrant colors, hues of yellow, orange and red stained the bodies moving languidly all around him. The lyrium utilized in his prototype's design would register like a signal flare, and he would be able pinpoint her location in seconds if she were in the room.

No bright white lights were registering. At all.

He felt his hope falter; she escaped.

The sound of music drifting from an adjacent room caught his attention, a beautiful, joyful melody, sweet and fast. Felassan's words suddenly clicked. Damn him.

 _She was in the dance hall._

He forcibly maneuvered himself through the crowd, garner a few gasps of protest and rude remarks about his haste. He couldn't afford to waste his breath to apologize. The dancehall was jaw dropping, and enormous. His vision swam in a warm burst of color, like sunsets that twirled and glided across the cool blue horizon of the floor. He moved along the edge of the room, stalking the scene as indiscreetly as he could, admiring the subtle beauty of it all.

A flash of white from the middle of the room consumed his sight, glowing white hand raised against the orange palm of another. He watched as his thief danced in time with the music, being lead through the movements by an unsuspecting partner. The split apart with the rest of the dancers and fell back into two lines, shifting places with the person beside them to switch up the pairs. She was literally dancing her way out of this place. Clever girl to blend herself in with the crowd. But she was no match for him.

He quickly shut off the infrared sight, he no longer needed it. He had her.

He joined the throng of dancers in the line, facing off with some unruly red-headed woman four people down from his thief. He would have to play the part too, blend in and sneak up to catch her off guard before she could bolt. He fell into dance easily, it was familiar and fairly simple. Keeping a respectable distance from the red-headed woman, he cordially led her through the dance. He could see the blush rapidly spreading beneath her mask when he dipped her.

They split apart when the music returned to its staccato melody, signaling the lines to be reformed. Instead of moving one person down, he moved two, earning him an angry glare from one of the men who apparently was eager to dance with the lady now before him. She was wearing an exceedingly gaudy dress and obscenely large pearls. His thief still had not noticed his presence. He was so close. He studied her out of the corner of his eye. She was graceful, following her partner's lead and flowing through the steps with practiced ease. She must frequent balls like this often, he thought to himself, filing away the knowledge for later.

The staccato returned and his opportunity presented itself, for she spun right into his arms without a second thought. It was amusing to watch her mouth fall and utter a small gasp as one of his hand found its place at her waist, and the other enveloping itself around the device on her hand.

"I'm sorry, for I do not feel much like dancing anymore,sir." She declared the moment they touched, not sounding apologetic in the slightest.

"That is a shame, I have been waiting all night to dance with you."

Her lips curved down. "I'm sorry, you'll have to excuse me." She tried to pull away, but he spun her back towards him in time with the music. She was stuck.

"If you wish to leave, allow me to escort you, Miss…?"

She gave him a flat stare. "I changed my mind. I feel like dancing."

"Ma Nuvenin." He said with a slight inclination of his head.

He pulled them deeper into the dance, forcing them out of the established line progression so that they were dancing freely on the floor.

"You can't do anything to me in public, think of the scene you will create!" She hissed at him as he brought her flush against him.

"Think of the rumors that will spread of our ill-mannered behavior if I neglected my social graces as a proper gentleman and did not walk you home." He retorted, studying the metal work on the goggles obscuring her eyes. Peculiar.

"What kind of gentleman stalks a lady through a party?"

"The kind who wants the return of his stolen property and reparations for the damage caused."

She huffed and allowed herself to be spun again, falling back in step with him. "Well, I have the misfortune of informing you that you will be receiving neither tonight."

"What makes you so certain I will not?" He tightened his grasp on her hand wearing his device. He was so close he could just attempt to pull it off right here, right now.

But the way she flinched, mouth twisting into a grimace as he held her hand suspended between them, stopped him.

He was hurting her.

He immediately loosened his grip and she visibly relaxed.

"You can't remove it…can you?"

She remained stubbornly silent.

 _No. No, no no._

"It couldn't have bound itself to your skin, you shouldn't have been able to…" His mind was racing once again, not quite present in the dance anymore, though his body continued to lead her through the motions.

"Able to what?"

The fact it fused with her was mind blowing, and now posed as another problem to add to his growing list.

"Able to what, Fen'Harel." She said between gritted teeth when he didn't answer. This time her question came out harsh, and cold.

"You must return with me." He insisted, steering her back to the reception room.

She barked a cruel laugh and put up resistance, still managing to step in tempo. "Absolutely not."

"You do not understand, and I have no time to explain the consequen— "

"Fen'Harel!" A voice boomed behind him, startling both of them and causing them to bump into each other, "I daren't believe it! Felassan wasn't lyin; when he said you were in attendance s 'evening!"

He turned his head to face a very inebriated man he did not recognize at first until he spotted the small crest on the man's lapel marking him as one of June's underlings.

"I say, s'good t'see you. June read your latess report on infusion of— "

Solas felt a sharp, stabbing pain break out over his foot as his thief stepped on it and ripped herself from his arms, shoving him back. June's underling caught him by the shoulder and continued to talk to him despite his obvious discomfort and attempt to follow.

"—and he thinks 'iss brilliant. You should stop by is'shop tomorrow and speak with him— "

Solas held up a hand to silence the drunken man. "You must excuse me." Eyes scanning for his mysterious dancing thief once more. He spotted her at the edge of the room, standing beneath a large, intricately etched arch. Beautiful satin curtains were billowing behind her through the archway.

She was staring right at him. Or so he assumed, for she smiled that cold smile and pressed two gloved fingers to red lips, repeating the gesture she had given him earlier before she jumped out into the night. It was so subtle yet irritating, and he felt his spine prick with heat at the gesture.

His irritation didn't last long though. It dissipated and was replaced with horror when a hand shot out from behind the curtain and smothered his thief's mouth, blade appearing at her throat a second later before she was hauled behind curtain, and out of sight.


End file.
